


Jon Snow and the Many Inexplicable Truths

by TheDarkDreams



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, He decides to do things differently, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon is sent back to the moment of his resurrection, Jonerys, NOT for Sansa fans, Slow Burn, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-05-14 01:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19263016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkDreams/pseuds/TheDarkDreams
Summary: He didn't even know where to start. He had so many things he needed to tell her, all of which were more absurd and ridiculous then the last. Firstly, there was the threat of the White Walkers, which most believed were invented just to frighten naughty children. Then there was his very own resurrection, an ability usually claimed by religious zealots. There was also the secret behind his true parentage, a tale filled with such tragic romance that most people would think it fiction rather than fact.Above all else though, the fact that he came from a future where they loved each other and he ended up killing her was going to be the hardest truth to tell. He would tell it though. He may not be Ned Stark’s bastard, but Eddard’s sense of honor still ran through his veins.





	1. Dying in the Cold

**Author's Note:**

> What would Jon Snow do with a second chance? Well, I can't tell you much, but hopefully he'll bring about a more satisfying ending then the one we got.

Jon had been marching onwards for days now. He'd left the company of the Free Folk last week. Even they weren't comfortable traveling this far north. He'd ordered Ghost to say with Tormund and thankfully Ghost had listened to him. He loved his direwolf to bits, it was true. However, he didn't want any companionship on this journey. He only wanted isolation now. He deserved nothing less.

Daenerys Targaryen possessed his thoughts like she had previously possessed his heart. The image of her brought cruel anguish where it had once brought endless joy. Despite everything that he had done, his love for her had not waned in the slightest. He had thought that his grief might bury his love, but the emotions somehow found a way to coexist with each other. She had been his queen and his kin. She was the woman he loved more than anything in the world and he killed her. 

Tyrion had said that it was the right thing to do when he asked Jon to do it, but doing the right thing had never felt like this before. Dany had slaughtered a city and she'd been far gone enough to be certain of her moral purity still. He on the other hand had killed one woman for the sake of protecting millions, and yet he still couldn't think of himself as anything more than an evil Kinslayer. 

He was supposed to be the shield that guarded the realms of men, and Daenerys Targaryen belonged to the realm just as everyone else who he had killed her for did. He hadn't just betrayed his queen and his love when he took Dany’s life, he had betrayed his Night’s Watch vows too. 

What stung the most was that, in the end, she still trusted him so completely, right until he put the knife into her heart. Even after he had ignored her wise advice about keeping his true lineage a secret, she had been confident of his loyalty to her. He had used that faith in him to kill her.

Ned Stark would be disgusted with him. The man wasn't alive to give him condemnation, but Jon knew he would've if he was still here. How Ned had reacted to Jamie killing his own King, even when he had great reasons to do so, was all the proof Jon needed to support that claim. The honorable Lord Eddard Stark. Jon had tried to follow that man's example his entire life. Look how far he had fallen. 

For one shining moment Jon had thought that he could have everything. They had beat the Night King and inexplicably, everyone he loved had lived through it. He had everything that he had wanted but never believed he could deserve. He had thought that the Gods might let him keep it. Maybe as a reward for fighting for the living so devotedly. 

He had been a fool. All the Gods were frauds, if they even existed. He should have figured that out sooner. Ygritte had always been right about him, he really did know nothing. Random chance was all there was and random chance had never had the habit of being particularly kind. Especially where Jon Snow was concerned. 

He had nothing now. It wasn't just the woman he loved that he had lost. The family he had grown up with was dead. He wasn't just talking about Ned, Robb and Rickon. As much as he had tried to deny it, he had never seen Bran again after leaving Winterfell to join the Night’s Watch. Bran was as dead as the rest of the Ned Stark’s sons. The emotionless Three Eyed Raven had his face, yes, but no more than that. Bran’s body was just a vessel for the Three Eyed Raven to use. 

Then there was Sansa. She had killed Littlefinger for the crime of turning kin against kin, only to do the exact same thing to him and Daenerys when it gave her an advantage. She had made a promise, not only as his sister but also in front of the sacred Godswood. He had entrusted her to keep his secret and she had defiled that trust in less then a single day. She had sacrificed her own family for nothing more than a political advantage. He should have never given her the chance to undermine Dany. Sansa might not actually be dead, but she was dead to him. She was heir of Petyr Baelish, not Ned Stark. 

After that, his last living relative was Arya. Oh, his beloved little sister. His affection for her would never fade. That didn't change the fact that she was now gone from him though. He'd never see her again. The literal distance between them was just too great. Arya was going west of Westeros while he was going north of the far north.

He wasn't motivated by a sense of adventure like his sister though. He had come this far away from everything to look for one of two things. A reason to live or a reason to die. He was quite conflicted you see. His sense of justice said he deserved death but his self hatred said it was too good for him. Death would bring him oblivion, one couldn't suffer when one was nothing. If Jon was certain of anything anymore, he was certain that he should suffer.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out though. The winds of winter roared in his ears louder than Drogon ever had. He was in a blizzard of frost and cold. He could see nothing but white in every single direction and his arms had gone completely numb over two hours ago.

He supposed being buried by snow could be a fitting end. Aegon Targaryen would die in the namesake he had always believed himself to be. his father Rhaegar was responsible for causing the conflict which was the beginning of the end for the Targaryens. Now Jon, as his son, would finish the Targaryens off once and for all. He had killed Daenerys Targaryen and now he was killing himself. His father's legacy could finally be complete.

With that, Jon Snow let himself fall into the abyss. Where we would land however, was a place entirely unexpected. Perhaps, just this once, fate would be kind after all.

* * *

Davos was incredibly nervous, of that he was certain. Which outcome he was nervous of however, he really didn't know. The Red Woman had just finished her magic ritual that would supposedly bring Jon Snow back from the dead. He wasn't sure if he was afraid that the spell wouldn't work, or that it would but a different man then the one lost would return to them.

The silence was deafening as he waited. Waited to see what, if anything, happened. The first sign of it was Ghost stirring. Then Jon rose from his deathbed like a child would awake from a nightmare. Which was to say, in manic panic and gasping for breath. Jon looked over to him and Davos found himself overwhelmed with relief, the young lad had recognition in his eyes when they met each other's gaze. That was a good sign, or at least, Davos hoped it was. Then Jon tried to get up only to start collapsing under his own weight. Davos rushed to his side to help him. 

“Easy, easy, easy.” Davos tried to sooth as he held Jon up. How was one supposed to comfort the deceased when said deceased was still alive to hear it? Not sure of how to go forward, Davos asked the first question he could think of. “What do you remember?”

Jon weakly grunted out his reply, “too much.” He felt the stab wound over his heart. It felt new on the surface of skin. It felt like he had gotten it recently, because he had. He looked back at Davos and shook his head in apparent horror. “They stabbed me. I shouldn't be back here,” he said in utter disbelief.

“The lady brought you back,” Davos said as way of explanation.

As if conjured from being mentioned, Melisandre appeared in the room. She quickly approach Jon, seemingly eager to question the focus of her greatest magical success. “Afterwards. After they stabbed you, after you died. Where did you go? What did you see?”

Davos thought that perhaps Jon wasn't ready or wasn't comfortable enough to share such private and personal information. He went to intervene, but the young lad responded before Davos got the chance to.

“The future,” Jon Snow said. “I saw the future.”


	2. Preparing for Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your wonderful feedback and support! Without further ado, I give you the next chapter.

Edd Tollett had mixed feelings about all this. The Red Woman had successfully brought his brother of the Night’s Watch back from the dead, but Jon hadn't been acting like his normal self since his return. He had greeted both Edd and Tormund just fine, but afterwards he seemed even more distant then what was normal for him. Like his mind was preoccupied with far greater things. Edd was seriously worried for his friend’s current state of mind. 

He walked into Jon’s chambers to find the man frantically scribbling away on parchment. It almost looked like Jon thought the ink would dry before he could finish his sentence, such was the manner of his expediency. 

“Jon,” Edd said to announce his presence before continuing. “What is to be done with the traitors who betrayed you?”

Jon didn't even look up from what he was writing as he replied absentmindedly. “Nothing is to be done, Edd. Keep them locked up wherever you have them now. They deserve no punishment.” Edd was speechless. He hadn't known what to expect, but it definitely wasn't that. When Jon didn't hear any reply to his words he finally looked up at Edd to ask him. “What is it?”

It took a moment for Edd to find his voice, when he did he just incredulously repeated Jon's words back to him. “They deserve no punishment?” Edd had always known that Jon didn't value his own life, but he had never expected that it was to this extreme. He needed to make Jon see reason in this matter. “How could you possibly think that? They betrayed you!” 

Jon set his jaw in apparent frustration. He clearly wasn't comfortable with this line of questioning. “Aye, they did betray me,” he admitted before continuing. “Although, They only did so because they thought I had betrayed the Night's Watch.”

Edd must have been hallucinating. That was the only reasonable explanation for what he was hearing. “Don't tell me you're actually defending the men who had you murdered?” He asked, completely horrified at the notion of it.

Jon rose from his chair. He could no longer take this argument sitting down it seemed. “Don't tell me you're actually suggesting that I hang a child.”

Edd was close to growling in anger. “I'm suggesting that you give them what they deserve. What traitors deserve is death. I don't like it, but that includes Olly too. He was your steward, pledged to your suffice, and yet still he had you killed.”

“Do you think that was the outcome that he wanted!?” Jon bellowed, more impassioned then Edd had ever seen him. “He wouldn't have done it If there was any other way! Do you think he enjoyed doing it? Do you think he enjoyed killing someone he admired so much?”

Edd took a step back as he realized what was happening. Jon might have been talking about Olly’s treason, but his emotional reaction was clearly in response to someone else's treason. Someone who he obviously emphasized with.

The rage in Jon's eyes left as quickly as it had came. In its wake the Lord Commander looked more broken then any young man had a right to be. “He did what he believed to be right,” Jon said solemnly. “He set aside his emotional connection to me to do what he thought was his duty.” Jon seemed lost in dark thoughts for a moment before he firmly added, “as long as I'm breathing, all my mutineers will breathe too.” Then all the authority left Jon’s gate as he finished his dramatic speech by unconfidently saying, “that's what I think anyway. It's actually not really my place to decide.”

Edd turned his head in genuine confusion. “What do you mean it's not your place to decide?” He asked.

“Since I'm no longer the Lord Commander, I don't have the authority to sentence them.” Jon said, like it was the most obvious thing in the Seven Kingdoms. Then he looked away, as if to access his memory, when he looked back Edd could clearly see embarrassment on Jon's face. “Oh. I haven't told you yet, have I? I'm sorry, I really thought that I already had. My watch has ended, Edd. I'll be leaving Castle Black before the sun sets today.”

“Your leaving the Night's Watch?” Edd couldn't believe this was happening. “You can't just leave the Night's Watch. You swore a vow.”

Jon gave out a frustrated groan. “Aye, I did. I pledged my life and now I've given it. My vows were fulfilled the moment of my death. I need not abide by them anymore.”

Not believing that he could refute that line of thought, Edd brought up a greater threat instead. “What of Hardhome? You and I both saw what's there. They're coming south for all of us. I understand that you want to rest, and you deserve that rest more than anyone, but you can't just turn your back on the living in our greatest hour of need.”

“That's not what I'm doing, Edd. I would never turn my back on the living,” Jon assured. 

“Oh,” Edd said dumbly. He suddenly felt incredibly guilty for doubting Jon Snow. The young man might be leaving his brotherhood but he would never leave their cause. They were the shield which guarded the realms of men. Curious as to the nature of Jon's plans, he asked. “Then what are you doing?”

“I'm going to take Winterfell back from the Boltons,” he explained. “Only a united North will stand a chance at holding back what's coming. That's what I've been doing in here all day. I've been writing letters to every northern house there is, asking for their support.”

Edd nodded his head at this. Instead of the encouragement he intended to give Jon, his doubts slipped out instead. “Do you really think the northern houses will give you their support?”

To Edd’s surprise, Jon smiled at this. “No. In fact, I'm certain that most won't. I still had to send out the letters anyway, though. That way I can hold them accountable later, after they've failed to give me the aid I require.”

Edd didn't know what to make of that statement. It was perfectly reasonable, if a bit cunning compared to his former Lord Commander’s usual nature. Perhaps Jon really was different now. That idea no longer filled Edd with dread like it did before though. His friend's motivations were unchanged, what was different now was the depths Jon was now willing to go to achieve his goals. Maybe a more cunning Jon Snow would even bring about a better world in the end.

* * *

“The crows killed him because he spoke for the free folk when no other southerners would,” Tormund said as he beseeched his people to join Jon's cause. “He died for us. If we are not willing to do the same for him, we're cowards. And if that's what we are, we deserve to be the last of the Free Folk.”

Once again, Jon was grateful to have an ally in Tormund Giantsbane.

The giant Wun Wun raised himself to his feet and simply said, “Snow.” That was all it took. Just like that, he now had the support of the Free Folk.

So far, the only major difference Jon had made with this second chance of his was a matter of timing. Everything he had done after reuniting with Sansa in the original timeline he was now doing before reuniting with Sansa in this new one. This was because he didn't plan on reuniting with Sansa at all. At least, not anytime soon anyway. 

He couldn't trust the woman who was once his sister with anything of value anymore. She had played Tyrion against his own queen like it was nothing. She had played Jon against the woman he loved like it was nothing. She defiled the trust they had shared as siblings just so she could attack Daenerys authority. That definitely was not the company he wanted to keep.

The worst thing about this was that he couldn't punish Sansa for her traitorous actions. This was because, from her and the world’s perspective, she hadn't done any of said actions yet. That was the trouble with time travel, it made accountability ever so tricky. He'd deal with her eventually though, he just wasn't sure how yet.

While the long term was blurred, the short term was clear. Sansa would come to Castle Black and find the brother she had hoped to reach already gone. From there it was easy to predict what she would do. Without him by her side, she wouldn't feel comfortable enough to stay at Castle Black. His brother's there were all strangers to her after all. Sansa would most likely follow Lady Brienne to Riverrun to try and get the support of her uncle, the Blackfish. 

This was good for Jon. The Blackfish would be too busy dying for his own home to come up north and die for theirs. Sansa would be so preoccupied with her futile mission that he would have plenty of time to reclaim the North without her or the involvement of Knight's of the Vale. That was definitely an improvement already for this new timeline. Having less of Llittlefinger in his life could only do Jon good.

He was getting ahead of himself though. Right now he had to focus on the task at hand.

“Ser Davos,” Jon called out to the man as he approached him. “I have an assignment for you.”

“I'd be happy to help in anyway that I can,” the old man earnestly replied.

Jon didn't waste any time getting into it. “I need you to get the Men of Bear Island into the fold. I'd go with you to convince them to join us but I'm needed elsewhere myself. I've sent them a Raven telling them of your upcoming arrival. they'll be expecting you to speak on my behalf.”

“Hmm. I don't inherently disagree with the proposition. If you're leaving though, who will lead the Wildlings that have just joined your cause?” The Onion Knight asked.

“I've given Tormund detailed instructions on how to march the Free Folk to just outside Winterfell. He'll make sure they don't get into too much trouble along the way,” Jon explained. “So what do you say to my request? About getting house Mormont on our side?”

Davos squinted his eyes in thought. “Sorry for my lack of knowledge regarding the northern lords, but that's a pretty minor house isn't it? Shouldn't we focus on the major houses which have the largest armies first?”

Jon shook his head. “The major northern houses won't listen to us no matter what we say to them.” _I know from experience_ , he thought grimly. “There's no point reaching out to them more than I already have through Ravens. Besides, I've been told that the Men of Bear Island fight ten times as well as any mainlanders.”

“Are you sure I'm the best person to convince them though?” Davos asked, clearly still worried about his lack of experience in this field. “I'm not from the North nor do I know it well.”

“You won't need to,” Jon reassured him. “You're a straight talker Ser Davos, you don't try to trick people with your words. That is a quality that Lyanna Mormont, the leader of the Mormont house, values most of all. I can think of no better person to send.” He let the compliment sit in the air briefly before he continued. “After you've finished there, go to house Hornwood and house Mazin. They are the only other houses which will be willing to help us.”

“Alright. I'll do my best,” Davos promised. In this moment Jon was reminded of how good of a man Ser Davos truly was. He had nothing to gain from any of this and yet he was willing to deal with people whose attitudes were so completely unfamiliar to him. He only did it in the name of trying to do the right thing. 

Once again, Jon was grateful to call Ser Davos Seaworth his ally.

Jon was getting on his horse, preparing to leave, when his direwolf came up beside him. He had always had the knack of knowing what Ghost desired, now was no different. “You want to come with me?” Ghost wagged his tail in what Jon took as an affirmative. “I'm going a long way away and you're probably too big to ride up on the horse with me. Are you sure you want to accompany me?” Ghosts tail continued to wag at the same speed as before. “Alright,” Jon said as he gave into him. “I did warn you though. Just make sure you keep pace with the horse.”

Jon and Ghost were just about to get going when Davos approached them both, one last question on his lips. “Jon, If you don't mind me asking, where are you going to get reinforcements if you don't think any of the major northern houses will help us?”

“Essos,” Jon said simply and offered no further explanation. Davos was about to inquire some more when Jon suddenly continued. “Don't worry about it Davos. Your hair is grey enough as it is. You focus on the reinforcements your getting and I'll focus on the reinforcements I'm getting.

Without another word, Jon took off on his horse and his direwolf quickly followed. Jon had told Davos the truth of course. He was riding in direction of White Harbor where he planned to catch a boat on its way to Essos. While he had never been to the country before himself, he was already certain in what he would end up finding there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, Jon has foreknowledge but that doesn't make him infallible. He's still capable of making mistakes. People will probably argue whether or not him letting his mutineers live at the beginning of the chapter was a mistake for example. On the one hand Edd is probably right when he says that they deserve death. On the other hand however, Jon did the same crime when he killed his queen and he's not hanging himself for it. It would be hypocrisy for Jon to kill them and not also kill himself. 
> 
> So yeah. Curious to see what you think about that. Also, Jon's going to get help from Essos?! I wonder what aid he could possibly find over there? There's really no way of guessing. Feedback of any kind is appreciated!


	3. Across an Endless Sea

He was losing his mind. 

No, sorry. That wasn't correct.

He had lost his mind some time last week.

Jon and his direwolf were sailing to a particular place in Essos. At this point he had no idea how long they had been sailing for, but it certainly felt like quite a long time by now. He hadn't seen sun or moon light for weeks now. He felt as if he was going mad. 

At least he still had Ghost to distract him. It wasn't in any way easy getting his direwolf on this ship. He had to bribe the captain and crew to get him on board without getting unwanted attention and even then, Direwolves simple weren't made for the sea. Ghost didn't like the feeling of the ground rocking beneath him. Because of this, Ghost didn't really make the best of company at the moment. Constantly growling and barking as he was. With Jon and his direwolf both ordered to remain below decks though, Ghost was the only company he could hope to get. 

Why was this the case? He had been ordered to keep his direwolf below deck because the crew were too uncomfortable to do their jobs while they were around something which appeared so threatening. He had assured them that Ghost wouldn't hurt anyone while he was around and explained that separating them would only make his direwolf more unruly. 

After that he had been ordered to stay below deck too, with his direwolf. Not wanting to be kick off of his only means of transportation, he begrudgingly complied. Perhaps after all this time in isolation his sense of the passage of time had lost its sharpness and couldn't be trusted any longer. What he thought had been the last hour could very well be the last day or even the last ten minutes.

The lack of human interaction wouldn't have been so terrible if he wasn't alone with his thoughts. His many, many dark and terrible thoughts.

Without distraction they all came at him at once. All the memories which caused him pain just by the act of recalling them. Olly stabbing him in the heart, Jon stabbing Daenerys in the exact same place. Viserion’s screams when he died, Drogon’s roars when his mother died. Ygritte getting killed by arrows, Rickon getting killed by arrows. It seemed every bad thing which had happened to him had somehow happened twice.

Imagine if that was all you ever thought, on repeat for weeks and weeks. You'd start to question if you were sane too. His sleep wasn't any better. Every dream he had began with King’s Landing burning down to cinders and ended with Winterfell being taken by the Long Night forever. They were the homes of his parents, King’s Landing and Winterfell. In his original timeline he had only managed to protect one, was it arrogance for him to now think he could save both? Was one doomed to always fall?

With him questioning his own sanity, he wondered if any of this was real. Perhaps his current experiences where just a dream his mind was making for itself as he froze to death far beyond the Wall. On the other hand, perhaps the future he had lived wasn't real and his experiences now were instead. Perhaps everything he knew of the future was just from an enhanced vision given to him from beyond the grave. While there were arguments which supported these lines of thinking, he decided to dismiss them both because they weren't practically beneficial to anything. The only thing which was practically beneficial at the moment was getting to Essos.

Where precisely in Essos was he going? To his aunt in Meereen of course. His plan was to live up to his true namesake. Aegon hadn't needed sieges or great armies to win his battles because he had dragons. Dragons were want made one family fleeing the Doom of Valyria royalty when they came to Westeros. Yes, the answer to all of Jon's troubles was dragons. 

You would have noticed by now, but Jon only referred to himself as ‘Jon’ in his head. He'd never called himself ‘Aegon’, despite it being his true name of birth. He was a Targaryen in blood, of this he didn't doubt, but he still considered himself nothing more than a ‘Snow’ in actuality. Why was this the case? He had the blood of the dragon, but he fretted that he wasn't one himself. Rhaegar had been one, but he didn't seem to pass that traite on to him. Dany might have been the only true dragon in his lifetime. His evidence was, when protecting Lord Commander Mormont from a Wight, he threw a burning lantern at the creature and the fire left a mark on his skin. A burn mark which was still lingered to this day, mocking his true lineage with its very existence. 

Since he was thinking about Targaryens now, there was also his first meeting with Dany to consider. There were truths he had to reveal. He didn't even know where to start. He had so many things he needed to tell her, all of which were more absurd and ridiculous then the last. Firstly, there was the threat of the White Walkers, which most believed were invented just to frighten naughty children. Then there was his very own resurrection, an ability usually claimed by religious zealots. There was also the secret behind his true parentage, a tale filled with such tragic romance that most people would think it fiction rather than fact.

Above all else though, the fact that he came from a future where they loved each other and he ended up killing her was going to be the hardest truth to tell. He would tell it though. He may not be Ned Stark’s bastard, but Eddard’s sense of honor still ran through his veins.

Although, perhaps he was wrong about that interpretation of the man he admired? Ned’s sense of honor wasn't as strict as most considered it to be. He lied to his wife, he lied to his best friend, he lied to his King. He lied to the entire realm, just so he could protect his sister's son. After all, _what is honor compared to a woman's love._

Ned Stark chose to sully his perfect reputation to protect his nephew. Years later he chose the same choice again. He lied to protect Sansa’s life when she was stuck in the lion's den. Though that time he didn't get to live with his lie. Joffrey had seen to that. That was besides the point though. 

Ned Stark wasn't some fool who valued honorability above everything like he was portrayed to be. Ned knew that when it came to protecting one’s family, honor no longer applied. Any lie or deception became necessary to safeguard what you loved.

Jon Snow loved Dany, therefore, if he decided that one of his secret truth’s would do her more harm than good, he wouldn't tell her of it. Moreover, he would do whatever was required to protect her, no matter the moral ambiguousness of the action which was required. 

He didn't believe that this went against what the man who he thought was his father believed, indeed he thought it was directly in line with it. Ned was deceitful in every waking moment for decades to protect Jon. Jon was willing to follow that example if it came down to it.

He didn't blame his uncle for keeping his true parentage a secret from him. In the end, not knowing it had been the best blessing he had ever been given. The union of his parents and brought about nothing but death and destruction. Jon may not be a bastard, but he now knew he was just as cursed as one. Son of the Union of Death. He supposed it was a fitting title for the grandchild of the Mad King. He had thought that knowing his origin would bring him some sense of closure, but it had only brought pain and suffering. To more than just him too.

His parents love for each other had inadvertently caused Robert's Rebellion. 

His parents love had indirectly started a war which resulted in the killing of nearly all of the Targaryens, including innocent children. His parents love had forced Dany, a princess of the highest station, into a life of exile and fear. For goodness sake, his mother's father had been burned alive but his father's father. Lyanna had brought about the death of her father and brother when she ran off with Rhaegar. He loved his mother, he couldn't help but love her, but that didn't change her foolish actions. 

She shouldn't have ran off without any trace like she did. A letter, some sort of sign, any indication that it had been her choice to leave and his uncle and grandfather wouldn't have felt the need to go to the Mad King like they did. They wouldn't have demanded for Lyanna to be returned to them and then be burned alive for asking so. 

The question was, was he any better? He had run off without much explanation as well. However, he had decided to go on this journey to save the north, not for love like his parents had. What if going down this path somehow doomed the North though? What if by the time he got back to Winterfell there were no Free Folk left to save? Every storm which slowed down this ship felt like a stab to one of his men's hearts. He needed to get to Dany quickly.

Hours later, he was woken by his dour musings when one of the crewmen entered his small cabin. “Why are you here?” Jon asked the man. “I'm usually brought supper at the end of the day.” Remembering that he didn't have a concept of time down here he bashfully asked, “is it the end of the day already?” 

“No. It's not the end of the day yet,” the crewmen answered. “I bring news. The captain himself asked for someone to tell you. On this day, our ship will dock with the land once more.”

Jon felt hope and relief blossom in his chest, though he didn't trust these comforting feelings. How could he not doubt them when they had tricked and betrayed him so many a time. Seeking clarification or confirmation, Jon asked, “are you saying what I think you're saying?”

The crewmen nodded. “We're finally here. We've arrived at Meereen.”

* * *

Jon and Ghost were aimlessly wandering the streets of Meereen. While the man and his direwolf had much to do here, none of it could be done well on an empty stomach. That was why they were searching for food presently.

Jon was just about to pick something to eat out of the many exotic options when he heard someone call out to him in surprise from across the way. “You're from the North!” 

Jon turned around, hoping to come face to face with another northerner who had come to this part of the world for some reason. Sadly, he found that the voice belonged to a common merchant instead. Not wishing to be rude, Jon brokered conversation with the man all the same. “Yes, I'm from the North,” he admitted. “What gave me away?”

The merchant gestured to the animal beside him. “Your giant wolf,” he said simply.

“They're called Direwolves,” Jon corrected him before adding. “I'm surprised that someone from here knew that they were from the North though.”

“Oh yes,” the merchant beamed. “I've heard only a few tales and stories of the North, but they left quite an impression on me. One of my favorites I heard quite recently. It spoke of the King in the North riding into battle atop a giant wolf.” 

Jon smiled sadly. “Your stories are a bit out of date.”

“Oh?” The merchant asked, though Jon offered him no more information. “Well, no matter. I'd still pay a small fortune for your wolf if you were interested in selling him to me?”

Jon avoided answering the question my asking one of his own. “I wouldn't think that anyone would be interested in buying him from you. Aren't there much larger creatures then direwolves in Meereen as of late?”

“I thought so too,” the merchant said wistfully. “The dragons have not been seen recently and neither has their mother.”

Jon raised his brow at his remark. He had an idea of what this man referred to but he had to be sure. “The Queen of Meereen has not been seen of late?”

The merchant nodded. “Yes. She was attacked by the Sons of the Harpy. They would have killed her most likely if her dragon hadn't come to her aid in that moment. She rode away on its back and hasn't been seen publicly since then.”

Now Jon was certain that he knew which event this was. During their time sailing together from Dragonstone to White Harbor, Jon and Dany had done much more than just give each other pleasure. They had wanted to be intimate not only with their bodies, but with their histories. They had told each other the stories of their lives, both the good and the bad. If he remembered this particular tale correctly, it meant that at this moment Dany was with a Dothraki horde. Jorah and Daario would be out searching for her while Tyrion and Varys managed the city.

This would not do. Jon would meet with the Queen for aid and no one else. If he came to Varys and Tyrion to request aid, they would have too many questions about why a son of a Stark thought he could get help from a daughter of a dragon. No, that would not do. 

He would just have to meet with the dragons then.

While Drogon was away at the moment, Rhaegal and Viseron still rested in the catacombs which were at the base of the Great Pyramid. One does not simply walk into the dragons den though. There would be Unsullied guarding the entrance to the Great Pyramid. He needed a way to bypass them. 

Struck suddenly with a plan of action, Jon turned back to the merchant with which he had been conversing with. “While I am not interested in selling my direwolf. I am interested in buying a thing or two off you merchant.”

The man nodded his head, gleeful to be making a sale. “Say the things you wish to purchase and I'll see if I have them.”

“I'm certain you'll have them,” Jon said. “They aren't uncommon or extravagant items. I just don't have either thing in my possession currently.” He hadn't realized he would have any use for such things on this particular journey.

“Of course. I understand,” the merchant said rather quickly. Clearly he was eager to get to the point in his conversation where he got paid something. “Name your items.”

Jon obliged the man his request. “Some parchment and a quill is all I need.” 

He had a letter in need of writing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When beginning work on this story I did a lot of research to find out how long it would take to get from White Harbor to Meereen. The results I found were either inconclusive or contradictory to each other. I realized that if I mentioned a precise amount of time that this journey took, it would only get someone upset that it was an incorrect amount of time. To avoid this problem I kept the time which has passed in this chapter vague. 
> 
> With Jon being so desperate to get to his destination as quickly as possible, and having as much to think about as he does. I decided to focus this chapter mainly on where his mental state is at regarding several issues. Because of this, not much plot progression happens here. For that I have to apologize. Hopefully this chapter didn't disappoint you after so much happened last time. I thought it necessary for one to have an understanding of where this version of Jon is coming from. In the next chapter, look forward to things actually happening.
> 
> As always, feedback of any nature is appreciated!


	4. A Scheme in Meereen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in delivering this chapter to you. To make it up to you, this chapter is longer than the previous ones and therefore covers more ground in the narrative. Enjoy!

Finding an inn to rest for the night had been tricky to say the least. Most of them turned Jon away because they didn't want a giant wolf in their building. They were afraid that Ghost would scare away other customers. It took a while, but eventually he someone who was desperate enough for business to let his direwolf share a room with him. 

When he entered the room, he wasn't surprised that It wasn't anything substantial. Jon actually found himself thinking that the walls would collapse if he leaned on them for too long. It was still better than nothing though, and for that he was grateful. 

The room only had a bed and a desk in it, but that was all Jon really needed. The smell of the place left much to be desired. They were latrine pits at Castle Black which possessed a more pleasant sent.

It was quite a ridiculous thing to consider when he thought about it. Here Jon was, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, in a room that hadn't been cleaned or tidied since before he was even born. He wondered if Rhaegar would be insulted at his son having accommodations so unbefitting for a King. Maybe his father would just laugh at the absurdity of it all? He really didn't know what his dad would have thought, he didn't know what Rhaegar’s thoughts were on anything. All his life he had thought it a blessing that he at least known who his father was. He longed to know his mother, but at least he had Ned as a father. At least he had one parent.

Now though, he was truly alone. He could never meet his parents. His father died before his birth and his mother died because of his birth. He'd never know anything about what they were like. What did their voices sound like? How did they talk? What lessons would Lyanna and Rhaegar have imparted onto Jon if they had raised him?

Jon knew his parents names, and that was it. Ned hadn't made a habit of talking about his dead sister, information on Rhaegar was even more scarce. He should have asked Dany if she knew anything about her brother when he had the chance in the previous timeline. Better than that, he could have asked The Three Eyed Raven what his parents were truly like as people. Sadly, he had been too distracted to ask anything so trivial back then. The Great War followed by The Last War took up much of his time and attention.

Jon sat down at the ricty old desk in his room. he prepared himself to write a letter with the parchment and quill he'd gotten off that merchant. He had never been eloquent in his writing, but he had a whole night to hopefully find words which accurately portrayed his thoughts. It didn't have to be poetry or anything, just something that he thought was satisfactory. Jon was sure he could manage it.

The letter was for Dany of course. For when she got back to Meereen. In this timeline this letter would be the first time they would cross paths. The first time she would be made aware of his existence. Jon thought back to the marketplace. He could still hear the end of his conversation with the merchant in his head.

Just after Jon had purchased the parchment and quill the man had given him a knowing look. “This is about a woman,” he said. “I can tell by that flustered and intense look in your eyes.”

It hadn't been a question but that didn't stop Jon from denying it vehemently. “No,” he replied far too urgently. “My goals are far larger and more important than merely attaining frivolous intimacy.” Jon was arguing fiercely, though he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince. The merchant just kept giving him that disbelieving look. Clearly the man could sense Jon was being disingenuous. “Okay, yes. This is about a woman,” he admitted with a sigh. “It's also about much greater things than that though.” 

“I'm sure it feels that way,” the merchant said. “To be young and in love, the slightest set back can feel like the end of the world.” Jon had to stop himself from cruelly laughing. The set back in his relationship might not have ended the world, but it had ended the lives of everyone in King’s Landing. The merchant eyebrows lowered as he asked Jon a question. “The event which separated the two of you, was it your fault or hers?”

_Hers._ He should have been able to say that without hesitation. She burned King’s Landing and yet he still couldn't lay all the blame at her feet. “We both made mistakes,” he said instead. Jon knew he didn't need to tell this stranger his hardships, but he simply couldn't help himself once he got started. “She hurt innocent people, but I hurt her first. I wasn't there for her when she needed me. I know it isn't right, but I somehow feel responsible for everything that happened. I could have prevented it all from happening if I hadn't been so absorbed with my own issues and emotions. Now that I've got a chance to see her again, I guess I'm just not sure how I feel. I can't wait to see her but I'm afraid that things will never be as good as they once were between us.”

The merchant nodded in understanding, like it was a story he had heard a thousand times throughout his long life. “You are a man divided against yourself, I think,” he said wisely as he stroked his chin. “This woman you desire, you want her company desperately but you also fear what such company might bring with it. I can see it in the way you move, you're both eager and hesitant at the same time. Your feelings are contradicted by your fears.”

“What you suggest I do then?” Jon asked hopelessly. This was truly rock bottom for him. Being desperate enough to get emotional and relationship advice from a complete stranger.

Not that the merchant seemed to mind. He apparently was happy to help. “Cast your fears aside, they only want to bury you,” he said. “Fear will try to crush you under the weight of your own past. Don't let your fear succeed. If you are to put your best foot forward, you must first let go of what you dread.”

Back in the present, at this desk in this tiny and decrepit room, Jon murmured to himself. “I must let go of what I dread.” He took a deep breath, summoned his courage and began writing a letter to Daenerys Targaryen.

* * *

_It was too early for this._

Red Mouse had been awake for less than an hour when citizens came to him, requesting aid. As a member of the Unsullied it was his purpose to protect the people of Meereen, they were his Queen’s subjects after all. However, that didn't mean Red Mouse enjoyed helping said subjects this early in the morning. The sun hadn't even rose from the horizon yet. 

It didn't help that the problem was so minor either. Apparently someone was making a bit of a ruckus in a nearby drinking establishment. Showing the people of Meereen that the Unsullied were here to help, no matter the issue or the time of day, would help keep their trust. Red Mouse understood how essential that trust was. The trust of the people would prevent any civil unrest from festering, which was especially important with the Queen currently absent.

He entered the beer hall to see two dozen people crowded in a circle. It seemed like they had surrounded something which they deemed of interest. Considering the violent chants the crowd was making, Red Mouse guessed it was a fight of some kind. 

He forced his way through the crowd so he could see what was happening. The sight he discovered was incredibly odd, like something from a wild dream. It was a fight, that he had been right about. What was so shocking however, was the inexplicable fact of who the fighters were. In one corner stood a giant wolf with fur as white as snow and eyes as red as blood. In the other corner stood a perfectly ordinary man. He look comely, if a bit shorter than the average man. Besides a scar near his eye he wasn't remarkable in any particular way. 

The wolf growled sharply while the man stared back at the animal with terrible intensity. Such a look might have managed to be intimidating if the man wasn't also wobbling on his own feet.

Red Mouse quickly made an assessment of the situation. The giant wolf clearly felt threatened and uncomfortable in this setting, being in such a confined space filled with people as the animal was. The man was clearly drunk, though to what extent Red Mouse couldn't be sure. He imagined that this man had decided to fight the wolf thanks to his poor state of mind. The crowd was using themselves as a barrier, forcing the poor creature into a confrontation with this drunken fool.

“Get back!” Red Mouse shouted over the yelling of the crowd. “Everyone step away!” The crowd, suddenly noticing the presence of an Unsullied, turned their focus onto him. “This is a beer hall not a battle arena! If you so desire to see blood spilled, this one suggests you go to Daznak's Pit.” With that the crowd began to begrudgingly disperse. This appeared to be to the giant wolf’s great relief, as the creature visibly became less tense. 

Despite the lack of an audience, the drunken fool still remained in his previous position. Apparently he was still keen on the foolhardy task of fighting an animal clearly as ferocious and powerful as this wolf was. Red Mouse put himself in front of the man, forcing the fool to acknowledge him, and spoke. “Like this one has already said, it's time to step away.”

Red Mouse was under the false assumption that the man in front of him could comprehend what he was being told. Unbeknownst to him, because this entire exchange was spoken in Valyrian, Jon had no way of knowing the exact words which were trying to be conveyed to him. Jon however was smart enough to get the basics of what was happening from context clues and the tone of voice being used. 

Without hesitation or preamble, Jon spat right in Red Mouse’s face. Despite the language gap between them, this message clearly got across. There were mumblings from the other people still in the room. They might have dispersed like Red Mouse asked, but they were still watching these events unfold. They would pounce on Red Mouse if they sensed weakness from him. After all, why should authority be listened to if someone could insult it without consequence?

Red Mouse was conflicted for a moment. This drunken fool before him had been disrespectful, but he hadn't caused any real harm. Red Mouse would never sentence a man to death for such a minor infraction but he couldn't offer no punishment either. Lacking any better alternatives, he made his decision.

Red Mouse grabbed the drunk man by the shoulder and quickly spun him, easily disorientating him. Then he wrestled the man's arms behind his own back so he could hold them in place firmly. “Perhaps a few hours in a cell will improve your attitude,” Red Mouse said. While the words were addressed to the drunk, they were loud enough for the entire drinking establishment to hear. This way, the people here would know that they couldn't act against the Unsullied without a punishment of some kind. 

Without further ado, he dragged the drunken man out of the building. For all the drunk’s posturing before, he surprisingly offered little resistance now. There were a few feeble attempts by the man to get out of his grip, but they seemed half hearted in nature. It appeared like the man had resigned himself to his fate of spending a few hours in the dungeons of the Great Pyramid. 

Red Mouse didn't hold any ill will to this drunk man really. He honestly thought being thrown in a dungeon for any length of time was too big a punishment for what the man did, but it was the lightest punishment Red Mouse could give out without appearing weak.

Red Mouse might not have much of any personal experience with alcohol, but he knew it could make people unreasonable. He'd keep the man locked up until he sobered up. Hopefully the man wouldn't want to fight giant wolves and spit in his face when he was in a clear state of mind. If Red Mouse was lucky, the man would actually be sheepish about his actions while inebriated and he could release him without further incident.

Red Mouse approached five Unsullied which were blocking the way forward to the Great Pyramid. Black Tick, the one which was in charge of this small group of Unsullied, called out to him. “Red Mouse. This one sees that you are back already.” Black Tick’s brow then furrowed in confusion and concern. ”What is that?” He asked. “This thing which is with you.”

Red Mouse was surprised to see Black Tick refer to the man in his custody as a ‘thing’, but he replied all the same. “This is the drunk fool responsible for causing a ruckus in a beer hall. This one is hoping that a few hours in a cell will help him regain a grasp on his own senses.”

“No,” Black Tick shook his head. “This one doesn't speak of the man in your grip, but the creature which follows you.” Red Mouse turned behind him to see that the giant wolf from the beer hall had followed him all this way. The animal seemed in a much better mood now though, wagging it's tail and panting happily as it was. Red   
Mouse wasn't particularly surprised, the creature’s would be attacker was now thoroughly restrained after all. 

Judging by the giant wolf’s motions, Red Mouse understood that it wanted to follow him inside the Great Pyramid. He turned back to Black Tick and explained. “This is the animal which the drunken fool wanted to fight. This one guesses that the wolf wants to accompany this one inside. Presumably the wolf desires to see the drunk one behind bars before it properly feels safe.”

Black Tick nodded but didn't stop looking at the animal warily. “Do you think it wise to let it inside as it wishes? What if it desires bloodshed? An animal of such size can not be easily repelled.”

Red Mouse understood Black Tick’s concerns, but he didn't share them. He had a basic grasp on this wolf’s nature. He was confident it wouldn't attack anyone without good cause. Because of this certainty, Red Mouse was comfortable vouching for the creature. “The wolf was quite frightened by this man and was easily made uncomfortable by a crowd of people. This one doubts it would ever want to fight any man unless it had too. This one thinks it safe to let it follow inside the Great Pyramid.”

Black Tick mulled it over for a few moments before conceding to Red Mouse’s more knowledgeable opinion on the matter. “Alright,” he said. “Keep the creature in your line of sight though. This one can't imagine it wise to lose track of a giant wolf.”

After that the five Unsullied stepped aside in unison, allowing Red Mouse and his companions to pass. The drunk man had been quite quiet during that enter exchange. He found the drunk’s change in behavior slightly odd. Perhaps he really was all bark and no bite? Dismissing these thoughts, Red Mouse continued deeper into the pyramid. He kept a firm hold of his temporary prisoner and kept a watchful eye on the giant wolf as it followed him.

* * *

Jon's plan had gone off without a hitch. He had gotten inside the Great Pyramid without having to fight his way through the Unsullied standing guard. In the end all it had taken was committing a minor offense on an Unsullied and pretending to be a drunk half convincingly. Now all he had to do was find the catacombs which held Rhaegal and Viserion and ask for their help without being burned alive. Well, he was getting slightly ahead of himself. There was still the Unsullied which was escorting him to his very own cell to deal with. Luckily, Jon knew of a certain direwolf which could help him with that. He waited until he was right outside the cell his captor was about to throw him into before he made his play.

All it took was a whistle from Jon's lips and Ghost understood. The direwolf rammed the Unsullied from behind. The unexpected attack made the man unbalanced enough for Jon to wrestle out of his strong grip. Jon kicked at the man's legs, forcing him to fall on his back. From here, Jon quickly lowered himself to the ground and covered the Unsullied mouth with his hand to prevent the man from calling out for help. 

“Can you understand me?” Jon asked quietly. The Unsullied eyes widened in what was either shock or confusion, Jon couldn't really tell. “I'm from Westeros and I only speak the language of that land,” Jon clarified. “I need to know if you can understand what I'm saying.” The Unsullied nodded his head in affirmation. _Thank the Gods._ The lack of a language barrier would make this all the more easier to convey. “Good,” Jon said. “I know you may be thinking that I have ill intentions, but I swear, I'm not your enemy. I really don't want to hurt you and neither does the direwolf here,” Jon gestured to Ghost who, since they were both on the floor, was towering over them with a watchful look in his red eyes. “I'm going to let you go now, if you try to call out for help though, there will be violence. The direwolf and I will be forced to attack so as to keep you quiet. Do we understand each other?” Once again, the Unsullied nodded. Slowly, Jon lifted his hands off of the man's mouth and thankfully he remained silent. “What's your name?” Jon asked.

When the Unsullied spoke in the tongue Jon understood, his voice was heavily accented but completely comprehensible all the same. “This one is called Red Mouse,” the man announced simply. Jon was surprised to find Red Mouse speak without any sign of fear or worry.

“Good to meet you Red Mouse. You can call me White Wolf,” Jon said. He wanted to avoid using his real name for the time being. Realizing they were in a bit of an awkward position since they were still on the ground, Jon picked himself up and offered Red Mouse his hand to help the man do the same.

The Unsullied ignored his offer and got himself up on his own. Jon understood that. The man didn't want to look weak after all, especially to someone who could be an opponent. “What do you want?” Red Mouse asked.

Jon wasted no time replying. “In the long term, peace. Right now though, I'm going to need you to stay in the cell which was meant to hold me.”

Red Mouse raised his chin in challenge. “What if this one refuses to do what you wish?” 

“This isn't a negotiation,” Jon explained. “While the skills of the Unsullied are legendary, one of you is not enough to stand against a direwolf. Let me be clear about this Red Mouse: Refuse me and I won't be responsible for the direwolf’s actions.” Jon wasn't bluffing with his threat, he was speaking the truth.

The Unsullied looked to Ghost for a moment, seemingly accessing the animal’s capabilities. When he looked back Jon could still see the fire of defiance in his eyes. “If this one obeyed White Wolf’s demands then this one would be betraying his Queen. Surely it would be better for this one to die by the wolf, then to do that.”

Jon was close, he could tell. He just needed to convince Red Mouse to follow his directions. “You're Queen gave you ownership of your own lives when she freed you. She would want you to stay alive if you could.” In the case that that justification wasn't enough Jon added, “you want to serve Daenerys Targaryen? You won't be able to do that if you're dead.”

When the fire in Red Mouse’s eyes died, Jon knew he had won. The Unsullied must have accepted that his assessment of the situation was correct. With nothing else to do, the Unsullied opened the door to the prisoner cell and sat down on a bench inside of it. “Does White Wolf want the key for this cell?” Red Mouse asked. “That way he could lock this one up indefinitely.”

Jon shook his head. “That won't be necessary,” he said. “The direwolf will be in the cell with you. He'll be blocking the door and making sure that you stay put for now.” At this Ghost turned to him and gave an upset wine. Clearly his direwolf didn't want to leave Jon alone in this strange place. He ruffled Ghost’s fur, hoping to provide his old friend comfort, and addressed him. “I'm sorry that I have to leave you here boy. I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't know that you could take care of yourself.” 

He needed to get back to Winterfell as quickly as possible. If Dany’s children agreed to help him, then he'd be riding one of them back home. He knew Ghost wasn't exactly comfortable in this unfamiliar land, but he would be even less comfortable on the back of a flying dragon. Besides, the letter he had written for Dany was attached to Ghost’s neck. It was in place of where a collar would usually go on a pet. Buried beneath the animal’s fur it was invisible to the naked eye, therefore ensuring that no one took the letter off Ghost before he could get it to Dany.

With Ghost now inside the cell, standing guard over Red Mouse, Jon went to leave. Before he completely closed the door he gave his loyal direwolf some parting words. “Goodbye my friend. We'll see each other again, I'm sure of it. If anyone tries to hurt you, hurt them back. Find the Queen when she gets back to Meereen, you’ll be able to sniff her out hopefully. Good luck.” With that and a passing glance in Red Mouse’s direction, Jon was gone.

Quickly and quietly he traversed lower and lower into the Great Pyramid. Jon knew the dragons were in a catacomb of some kind, but beyond that he had no idea on their exact location. When there were forks in the path, he followed the way which his instincts lead him, trusting his Targaryen blood to not lead him astray. If he was to survive this meeting, he needed to embrace the half of him which came from a dragon. He needed to embrace his father's lineage to be accepted by dragons. This was another reason why he left Ghost behind. The direwolf was a symbol of his northern ancestry. Such a symbol would not do in the dragons den, he was trying to convince the mighty beasts that he was one of them after all.

As to the other reason he left Ghost behind. He knew it was a lot to ask that his direwolf deliver a letter to a woman who said direwolf had never met. Jon only thought it was possible because of what he'd seen with Dany's children. Drogon had seemingly been able to tell that he was a Targaryen before Jon had known it himself. At least, that explained why the dragon had been so content with Jon petting him when they only just properly met each other. Jon was hoping a similar type of animal intuition could be used by Ghost to identify that Dany was his kin.

Jon was taken out of his musings when he stumbled upon stairs which appeared to lead to a massive empty chamber. Appearances could be deceiving though. Jon could feel the heat radiating from the room from where he stood outside of it. 

He was now sure, behind the blanket of darkness which covered this room, there were dragons.

It was time to meet with Rhaegal and Viserion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next time for Jon’s meeting with Rhaegal and Viserion. Until then, feel free to tell me what you thought in a comment. Feedback of any kind is always appreciated!


	5. Conversations with Cousins

Jon walked into the dragon's den slowly but surely. He was determined to not convey his nervousness in his steps. The complete darkness of the room quickly enveloped his entire vision and left him in a void. The only thing he could make out were the stairs behind him. They lead out of this catacomb and back into the light. 

The stairs almost looked angelic in this moment. They were the only way to ascend out of this void of light. Presented in this fashion, retreating made quite an appealing argument for itself. He had to remind himself that this wasn't the void which it appeared to be. Somewhere behind this curtain of darkness was dragons. When he looked in front of him though, he could only see inky blackness. It like there was a veil over his eyes.

_How had Maester Aemon done it?_ Jon found himself thinking. The man had lived decades of his life without his sight. Even though he was hampered by his incredible age, he never failed to move forward. 

Jon missed his Great Great Uncle terribly. He wished he could have told the man that they were related. He wished Dany could have met Aemon before he died. The old Maester had improved so many of his days. Jon would never get the chance to return the favor. 

Now was not about what might have been though, it was about what still could be. Jon could bring about a better future, he had to. He refused to accept anything less than complete success. 

He shook off his thoughts, closed his eyes and tried to put himself into his Grea Great Uncle’s head space. _How do I move forward without my sight?_ With one of his senses currently unusable, he focused on his other ones. 

He sniffed and found the faint smell of rotting meat and excrement greeted him. While the sent wasn't pleasant by any means, it also wasn't surprising. Jon doubted anyone had properly cleaned this catacomb while the dragons had been occupying it. He also didn't think following the scent of shit would be wise. It would probably lead him to either Rhaegal or Viserion’s back entrance. Not exactly the best place to be standing during a first meeting. 

With his nose giving him no useful information, Jon went onto his remaining senses. He quieted his breathing and focused on what he could hear. At first it seemed like there was nothing but the sounds he himself made. Then, after Jon properly strained his ears, he could just make out gentle rhythmic breathes coming from beyond the veil of darkness.

They were asleep.

Rhaegal and Viserion were sleeping.

That made sense, it was still the early hours of the morning after all. Jon doubted the sun had even risen yet. It also explained why Rhaegal and Viserion hadn't come to see who was entering their lair. After all, dragons weren't known for accepting unknown Intruders into their space. While he had answered one question, his new one was far more intense. _How did one wake sleeping dragons without being killed?_

Ignoring that impossible conundrum for the moment, Jon kept moving forward. The sound of them breathing could guide his steps. It would also lead him to the front of the dragons and not their backsides, so that was something. He knew he was going in the right direction because he felt the heat which was coming off them now grow stronger. The further he went the more their heat enveloped him.

When the heat seemed to reach its peak, Jon extended his hand in front of him and it came into contact with something! Something warm, firm and alive in every sense of the word. There was a sleeping dragon before him now. 

Jon's eyes had adjusted to the lack of light slightly, but not enough to make out the color of the scales which were just in front of him. Because of this, Jon had no reasonable way of knowing which dragon of the two in this catacomb he had approached. Key word in that last sentence being ‘reasonable’. He had no logical way of knowing this, but he got the strong sense that this was Rhaegal in front of him.

Jon couldn't make out which part of Rhaegal he was touching, but he kept his hand there all the same. He had to wake the dragon up somehow. Hopefully stirring Rhaegal from rest with his hand was a safer alternative to waking the dragon up verbally. He knew his touch would startle the dragon when it woke, but Jon imagined yelling it awake would have the same negative affect. It wasn't great, but Jon couldn't think of a safer to wake a dragon. 

Rhaegal almost sounded cute as he calmly breathed in and out while he slept. Other people wouldn't have understood how this creature which could level entire cities looked peaceful and gentle in Jon's current estimation. He wasn't surprised though, it had been the same with Dany during their boat trip to White Harbor. On the days when he had woken up before she did, He would marvel at how beautiful she looked while she slept. Her face was just so serene. Dany carried herself with all the authority befitting her royal status when she was awake. She also carried the weight of problems much larger than her. To see her features so unburdened had been one of the only blessings in Jon's terrible life. For Rhaegal to be in a similar state now, and for Jon to be here for it, was something he was truly grateful for.

The relaxing atmosphere of the moment easily calmed Jon's spirit. He lowered his arm and laid his head where his hand had been a moment before. The warmth coming through Rhaegal’s scales easily seeped through Jon's cheek. He let the tension leave his body as he leaned into the comforting feeling which Rhaegal’s contact gave him. It was irresponsible and reckless to relax here, but he couldn't help himself. This dragon’s namesake was Jon's father. In an abstract sense, Rhaegal was as close to Rhaegar as he could get. 

Jon let out a sigh of contentment, and for one moment, was at peace.

Then that moment ended.

The rhythm of Rhaegal’s breathing was altered as he stirred into consciousness. Jon quickly stopped resting his head on the mighty creature as he rose up. Even as blind as he currently was, Jon could tell just how massive Rhaegal was by the sounds of the mighty creature made by simply moving. Surely there was no other living thing which woke with such extreme splendor. Dragons were entirely alone in that category, just as they were in most. 

When light finally filled the catacomb and returned to Jon his sight, it brought nothing but dread with it. After so long getting accustomed to the dark, the brightness of the room stung his eyes to the point of tears. Even through his vision was overwhelmed, he could still make out that the light was coming from beyond Rhaegal’s mighty teeth! 

The creature was about to breath out fire! Was Rhaegal about to bring demise to the intruder which had disturbed his sleep? Jon made no attempt to reason or barter with the dragon. If Rhaegal had already decided to bury him in flame, nothing Jon could say would change his mind. 

Rhaegal roared out fire but it easily missed Jon by far. He turned around to see what the dragon could possibly have been targeting. There was a torch attached to the wall which was now lit thanks to the dragon’s flames. Rhaegal was as clever as ever. He wanted to properly see who this intruder was before he made an assessment about what fate said intruder deserved. 

From further in the room, Jon saw Viserion waking up himself. Presumably the new light in the room had stirred him from his slumber. While Rhaegal gave Jon a look of suspicion, his brother looked at him with hunger in his eyes. Viserion began to eagerly approach, apparently lusting after the tasty snack which he considered Jon to be.

Needed to put a stop to this before he got eaten, Jon bellowed, “I am not food!” The words may have sounded comical but he said them as fiercely as he could. “Nor am I your foe!” His reassurances did nothing to deter Viserion, but surprisingly, his brother did. Rhaegal got in Viserion’s path and stopped him from progressing toward Jon. Viserion gave out a screech which almost sounded like a whine. The dragon was clearly annoyed about this, but thankfully for Jon, not annoyed enough to fight with his brother about it.

He foolishly thought that maybe he had already gained Rhaegal's support. When the dragon turned back to face him though, his eyes held the same suspicion as before. Rhaegal didn't feel mercy towards Jon, but simply curiosity. “I'm not food, nor am I foe,” Jon said again. It was all he could think to say.

Rhaegal walked toward him and it almost felt like the earth shook with his steps. Viserion hung back but kept a snarl on his features. He was ready to attack and kill Jon in a moment if he moved against his brother. Rhaegal’s head was about a foot away from him now, but Jon refused to feel afraid. He would not cower nor would he run. He was a dragon just as they were! Dragons did not fear each other. Dragons did not fear anything.

Rhaegal opened his mouth wide and roared at him. The dragon could have swallowed him whole in this moment, but Jon still didn't waver. His body didn't shake or wobble in any way. Jon's features remained firmly set in a fearless expression as his feet remained firmly planted onto their position on the ground. Jon was a dragon, and he was finally acting like it. He had completely let go of his dread.

Right after Rhaegal was finished attempting to intimidate him, Jon did absolutely nothing. For several moments he was still and silent, the only sound from him being his calm breathes. Then, with the same confidence that Rhaegal had when he had approached him, Jon reached out. He placed his hand on Rhaegal and let it rest there. It was the same spot where Jon had put his hand on Drogon in the previous timeline. 

Rhaegal held Jon's gaze and it felt like the dragon was staring into his very soul. Rhaegal saw something there, when he looked into Jon. Jon could put into words what that something was, so he did. “We are the same. I am what you are. Daenerys, your mother, is my aunt. Her brother Rhaegar is my father. As you are Daenerys’ child, that makes us cousins.” 

Rhaegal heard him, Rhaegal understood him and Rhaegal agreed with him.

Jon lowered his arm. Rhaegal's expression was now accepting while Viserion’s was simply neutral. Either way, both dragons were content to hear him out. “I've come to request your aid. An evil man named Ramsay Bolton has taken my home and my brother. For these transgressions, I believe Ramsay deserves Fire and Blood.” At this Viserion turned his head away slightly and gave a dismissive growl. The dragon seemingly saw Jon's need for help as weakness on his part. “I'm perfectly capable of spilling Ramsay’s blood myself,” Jon rebuked before admitting, “Not without him spilling the blood of my brother though.”

Jon decided to surmise his request before he brought his speech to its end. “If I am to claim a victory which isn't hollow, I require assistance. I'm asking you, as one dragon to another, if either or both of you are willing to be that assistance.” With that he waited to see what decisions his cousins would come to. 

Viserion was the first to act. He lowered himself back onto the ground and closed his eyes, clearly seeking to get back to his sleep.

_Well, that's definitely a ‘no’ from him._

Jon now turned to Rhaegal. If both dragons turned him down then everything would be lost. There was no way he could get back to Winterfell in time to help the Free Folk and his few northern allies like the Mormonts. If Rhaegal refused to help, all of their lives would be lost. Ramsay wouldn't hesitate to slaughter them all even if Jon wasn't there to see it. Despite all this, he would accept whatever decision Rhaegal made. After all, one could not barter with dragons once they had made up their minds on something. It was for this very reason that Daenerys and Jon were as stubborn as they were.

Rhaegal moved toward him again. This time the dragon’s intent wasn't to intimidate the man before him though. Once again Jon raised his arm and offered his hand to the creature. Rhaegal pressed the tip of his snout into his open palm. In this moment of solidarity between them, Jon completely understood the message which Rhaegal was conveying.

Rhaegal would help him reclaim Winterfell.

Rhaegal would help him save his little brother.

Jon was so overcome with gratitude that he had to look away from Rhaegal’s gaze. The dragon named after his father let out an almost catlike purring noise. It was a soothing and gentle sound. It provided Jon with great comfort. 

Rhaegal backed up a bit so he could kneel down and present his side to Jon. It looked like Rhaegal was offering his back for Jon to ride on. To make sure he was reading this gesture correctly, Jon asked, “you want me to climb on?” Rhaegal gave out an affirming sort of growl, presumably that was as far a dragon could come to actually saying ‘yes’.

Jon climbed onto Rhaegal and prepared to take off and put this city behind them. He turned back one last time to check on Viserion. The dragon's eyes were shut and it seemed like the mighty creature had gone back to sleep. It would have been nice to have two dragons come north with him, but Jon was perfectly content with Viserion staying here. Rhaegal would be more than enough to destroy the Boltons.

“Oh,” he remembered something that he was supposed to tell Rhaegal before they set off. “Just so you know, it took me months by boat to get from the North to here. Even in the air, I imagine it'll take us a significant amount of time to get back. I thought I should mention that now, so you know what you're signing in for.” If this new piece of information bothered Rhaegal, then he at least didn't express it with his features.

Rhaegal stormed forward at a fast pace. In front of them was the stairway Jon had used to get inside these catacombs in the first place. There was no way in Seven Hells that a dragon could go up such a narrow path. Despite this, Rhaegal only picked up speed the closer they got to the stairs. Jon instinctively closed his eyes and prepared for Rhaegal’s current momentum to suddenly decrease when it came up against a literal obstacle. 

Instead of hitting resistance though, Rhaegal roared out flames from his mouth. The force of the fire was so strong that the bricks in their path where physically pushed out of their way. Thanks to the new opening, Rhaegal easily got them out into the open air at the base of the Great Pyramid.

Jon may have dealt with one Unsullied, but that didn't stop the rest from investigating the great noise their exit from the catacombs had just made. The Unsullied would most likely be prompt. It was important that they didn't see that someone was riding on Rhaegal as the dragon left Meereen. Such a sight would make people ask questions. Questions which he would like to answer himself and in person.

Considering they had no reason to delay, Rhaegal quickly got them airborne. He flapped his mighty wings and Meereen quickly got smaller and smaller beneath them. As they got to the outskirts of the city the sun finally rose from the horizon. The bright light cascaded over the city and the sea beautifully. 

Beyond the inherent wonder of the scenery, Jon found himself contemplating the strangeness of this experience. He was riding Rhaegal for the first time again. It felt new and familiar all at once. Like introducing yourself to someone new, only to remember that you had already met them before. Even with that half decent analogy, the whole thing still felt incredibly odd to Jon. He had never been on Rhaegal’s back before this moment, and yet he had. He had been on Rhaegal’s back in the future, but that future belonged to a different timeline then the one he was now in.

This was why time shouldn't be messed with. It made seemingly simple matters ever so confusing. Even so, Jon was grateful for this second chance. He would take Winterfell back from the Boltons and save his brother's life. He would help Dany take King’s Landing from the Lannisters without spilling any innocent blood. He would defeat and kill the Night King in a manner which didn't cost the living so many good men. Jon was determined to do it all. There would be no compromises. He'd save everyone. Or at least, everyone who deserved to be saved.

He knew how the future could play out if he failed. He'd seen King’s Landing burn down and he never wanted to see it again. The future of this timeline would bend and contort into a shape Jon deemed acceptable. It had too. 

Jon could barely live under the weight of his failures now. If he failed again, he was sure it would kill him. 

On that cheery note, Jon rode off across the sea with the light of the sunrise on his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With that, Jon is out of Meereen. As always, feel free to give me your feedback. It is immensely appreciated!


	6. Rhaegal Gone Awry

_Once upon a time, Aegon Targaryen had came to Westeros. Everywhere he walked, the country changed. Fields of grass became ash and dust. Castles melted and flowed like rivers. Kings either bowed at his feet or they died by dragonfire._

_Hundreds of generations later, Aegon Targaryen once again was traveling to Westeros. Would this new Aegon be as much an agent of change as the original had been?_

_While the Aegon of the past wanted to rule Westeros, the Aegon of the present only wanted to save it. It was debatable which of those goals were more ambitious._

* * *

He had never felt such freedom. Above the clouds as he was now, the problems and concerns of the world felt distant. For once in his life, Jon felt absolutely free. 

Rhaegal seemed to be quite happy to be back in the air too. The dragon had presumably been in the catacombs underneath the Great Pyramid for a while before Jon came along.

At the speed the dragon was flying, the wind harshly pushed against Jon's skin. However, it was never harder then his grip on Rhaegal was. At the height the dragon was flying, the temperature of the air was unbelievably chilly. However, the sheer amount of heat radiating off of Rhaegal’s scales was enough to keep Jon warm with easy.

While he had ridden Rhaegal before, it had never felt as glorious as this. The first time he was on the creature's mighty back, he was so focused on holding on that he failed to see the splendor of the activity. The second time he had flown on Rhaegal, he and Dany had been busy fighting the Night King and Viserion’s flying corpse. Obviously, with everything at stake, he hadn't paid attention to how magnificent it was to be flying in the air like this. After that, he had never ridden Rhaegal again. Euron and the Iron Fleet had put a stop to that. Not this time though. Not this time.

For the first time since he had been brought back to life, Jon felt genuine confidence. It looked like everything was going to go his way after all.

* * *

_Of course, no matter how much history turned Aegon into a legend in his own right, his many successes weren't actually attributed to him._

_Aegon wasn't particularly skilled with strategy or fighting ability. He also didn't have any army to call on in the beginning of his conquest._

_He succeeded despite all those disadvantages because he had dragons. Dragons were the legendary figures. Aegon just associated so closely with them that eventually no one could tell the difference._

_Hundreds of generations later, the new Aegon found himself in similar circumstances. The question was, would Rhaegal make him as much a legend as Balerion had made his ancestor?_

* * *

For once in his life, Karden Stanlire was able to sleep in. Usually his farming duties meant he'd have to wake with the sun. However, since today was his Nameday, his daughter Xanner had agreed to tend to the animals. 

He had been teaching Xanner how to manage the farm for the last six moon turns. It was essential that she knew how to do it. After all, he wouldn't be around much longer. 

Since Xanner’s mother had died, Karden’s aging seemed to accelerate. Each day he woke slightly more fragile than the last. The nearing winter only seemed to make his feeble health worse. He feared it wasn't long until a day came where he wouldn't wake up at all.

If circumstances had been different, he could have married Xanner off to a good man to ensure her survival after his passing. Unfortunately, the situation was more complicated than that. 

His wife had died a year prior in the act of giving him a son. Xanner would need to stay at the farm to raise her brother once he passed. As sad as it was to admit, there was no man Karden knew who was honorable enough to take in the infant brother of their newly wedded wife.

With the concerns of the future of his offspring constantly weighing on his mind, Karden relished the opportunity to sleep in on this one day of the year. Morosely, his wish to rest today was denied. He was stirred from his tranquil slumber before the sun had even finished rising.

“Father,” his daughter called to him as she shook him awake. “I need your help.” His initial desire was to complain about his rest being disturbed. However, such a complaint died on his throat when he comprehended his daughter’s tone of voice. She sounded absolutely terrified. 

Her appearance backed his assessment up. His daughter’s face looked whiter than snow itself. Whatever convinced her to get his aid, must be something of true horror and absolute evil.

* * *

_This new Aegon Targaryen was up against worse odds than his ancestor and namesake had been. He had to defeat a King of the Night. Unlike the Kings the original Aegon faced, this King was immune to dragonfire._

_There was also the slight issue of the Night King being a necromancer. That definitely made things more interesting for him._

* * *

“Rhaegal, do you think you're nearly finished?” Jon asked. “We need to get going again as soon as possible. We're still a fair ways away from Winterfell.”

If Rhaegal heard him, he ignored him. The dragon was too busy munching on a few dozen roasted sheep. Roasted of course, from flame of Rhaegal’s own making.

When the dragon had gotten hungry, a farm had seemed like the wisest place to stop for food. Jon was beginning to regret coming here though. With so much prey for Rhaegal to feast upon, the dragon was taking the time to enjoy the meal, as it were.

There was also the fact that Jon didn't want to be seen by this farm’s owners. That would be an awkward situation in the very best of circumstances. That's why he had wanted to leave before daybreak. Unfortunately for Jon, Rhaegal had spent so much time satisfying his hunger that the sun had begun its ascent into the sky.

That's when the shrieking started. Jon turned around to see his fears realized. A young woman had walked out of this farm’s home, spotted both him and Rhaegal and then ran back inside. 

He didn't blame her for her panicked behavior of course. Most people these days thought dragons only existed in history books. The story of them magically returning to the world clearly hadn't reached all of the common folk. In fact, Jon imagined there were many ordinary people in Westeros who hadn't even heard of Dany yet. News and information always traveled slow, especially amongst the illiterate majority of the Seven Kingdoms.

Moments later, a man exited the house which the young woman had fled into. This man’s age was quite inscrutable to Jon. The man's face hadn't begun to sag, which should indicate the he hadn't yet reached elderliness. His hair however told the exact opposite story. Every part of it which hadn't turned grey had simply fallen out completely instead. If Jon was forced to describe it, he'd say the man looked older then he was suppose to be.

Disregarding the man's perplexing and contradictory appearance, the thing Jon found most significant about him was what he had brought with him. The man had a farming rake in his hand. He had presumably wanted to ward off those who had intruded onto his land. Jon doubted the man still had that intention, considering he had seen what one of those intruders was.

Jon approached the man so he could converse with him. “I'm sorry about this,” he said lamely. He was at a loss for the appropriate words to speak in such a situation as this. “He was quite hungry,” Jon gestured to Rhaegal behind him. As if he could be referring to anyone else. “You seemed to have enough sheep to spare, so I thought…” He trailed off, not knowing how to continue, or if he even should.

The man, for his part, hadn't even acknowledged Jon. He was too busy gaping at the dragon who was devouring his sheep. Suddenly, Jon felt quite guilty. He had taken a part of this man's livelihood away from him, and the man in question was so filled with shock that he couldn't be mad at him for it.

Jon had never had much coin to begin with, and had used the last of it to buy from that merchant in Meereen. Considering he couldn't reimburse the man right now, he'd just have to do so later. “What's your name?” He gently asked. The man just kept gasping at Rhaegal. Jon put his hand on the man's shoulder and finally got his attention. “What's your name?” He asked again, as gentle as the last time.

For a moment Jon feared the man couldn't even comprehend his words in his current state of mind. Eventually, and with great effort on his part, the man feebly mumbled out, “Karden Stanlire.”

“I'm sorry for the circumstances of our meeting, Karden Stanlire.” Jon said hastily. He was eager to end this mostly one sided conversation quickly. “I'll come back when I can. I'll pay you back for what I've taken from you today. You have my word.”

Jon looked behind him and what he saw overwhelmed him with relief. Rhaegal was finished eating Karden’s livestock. The dragon was ready for them to continue on their journey. 

Jon wasted no time fleeing from Karden and climbing up onto Rhaegal’s back. If it was at all possible, Karden looked even more shocked than he had previously. For him, seeing a man riding a dragon must be quite an inexplicable sight. 

Jon didn't have to ponder Karden's thought process much longer though. With their business here finished, Rhaegal took off quickly. The dragon desired to get back into the rushing wind and open air. That was a sentiment which Jon thoroughly shared.

* * *

_He doubted that he would live up to his name. Aegon Targaryen didn't think history would remember him like it remembered the Aegon who had conquered the Seven Kingdoms._

_He also really didn't care. Whether or not he was remembered was a matter of no importance to him. He didn't need or want some mighty legacy which would last for generations after his death._

_All he wanted was for there to be generations after his death to begin with. After all, if he failed to destroy the Army of the Dead, then his generation would be the last._

* * *

He was pushing Rhaegal too hard. If he took a moment to be honest with himself, he'd admit that he was pushing himself too hard too.

Even with the speed granted to them by flying through the air, it had still been over a week since they had left Slaver’s Bay. After that terribly endless boat ride, apparently Jon still needed reminding of just how extremely far apart Meereen was from Winterfell. 

He had been so desperate to get back home as quickly as possible, that they had been flying nearly every hour of the day. He barely gave Rhaegal and himself enough time to sleep. After that visit to Stanlire’s farm took up so much time, Jon hadn't really set aside any time for him or the dragon to eat either.

He knew what he was doing was unhealthy for both of them, but he had no other choice. Every moment that he let pass doomed the Free Folk and his few northern allies a little more. He refused to come back and find them all already slaughtered by Ramsay Bolton. He refused.

It wasn't just hunger and tiredness which Rhaegal and Jon were combating. They also had to resist the elements themselves. The further north they flew, the colder and crueler the air became. 

The heat radiating from Rhaegal’s scales felt smothered now. It was by no means gone, but it was weaker. Like a flame from a candle feebly managing to stay alight in a snowstorm.

Now, in these dire straits, he recalled Dany’s words from the previous timeline. She had told him herself that her children hadn't liked the North. What was the first thing he did when he came back to life? Take a dragon to the North. 

While wiping Ramsay and his forces out with dragonfire didn't appear to be a foolhardy plan to Jon. That didn't change just how impractical it was to actually get a dragon to Winterfell’s doorstep.

* * *

_When Aegon Targaryen flew to Winterfell, the King in the North surrendered without a fight and became Warden of the North._

_Hundreds of generations later, Aegon Targaryen once again was flying to Winterfell. He wouldn't be accepting surrenders by those who claimed to own Winterfell though. He would give them nothing but Fire and Blood._

* * *

They were close. They were unbelievably close. There were so close that it was tantalizing!

He and Rhaegal weren't flying over the land, they were simply walking on it. The dragon was too exhausted at the moment to remain airborne for long. Jon had pushed the both of them beyond their limits to get them this far in such a short time. 

This extreme dedication to efficiency was finally going to be rewarded! Just beyond the hill they were ascending currently, was the rest that Rhaegal so desired. They were slowly making their way up a steep incline. Well, steep from Jon's perspective at least. To Rhaegal this hill was probably barely noticeable and entirely insignificant.

The point was, at the top of the hill they would finally see their destination before they very eyes. This wasn't Winterfell though, he wasn't even sure of the name of their current location. It was simply the place Davos had chosen last time to camp out at. 

It was where the Free Folk and his northern allies had gathered in the previous timeline. There was no reason why the location wouldn't service the same purpose in this timeline.

He couldn't wait to see all of their faces. Some people would have obviously thought him a fool when he left. They wouldn't have understood what ally could have been so important for Jon to abandon the remainder of his forces for. Now they would see him return to them with a dragon in his company.

After that, Jon would assure his men that they need not fear Rhaegal. He'd convince them that the dragon was genuinely on their side. Of course, Jon wasn't going to tell his soldiers about his Targaryen heritage before he had even told Dany about it. He'd just have to come up with some lie about how he befriended a dragon. 

From there, Rhaegal and Jon would be able to have a proper meal and a full night of rest. Once their typical strength and stamina returned to them, they would set out to Winterfell. They would erase Ramsay Bolton and his army from the surface of the world. 

Jon's thoughts cleared as he and Rhaegal finally reached the peak of the hill. He looked down into the valley below, prepared to see thousands of awestruck men. 

Instead, nothing greeted them. There was absolutely nothing.

This valley clearly had been used as a camping spot for a lot of people recently, but it was cleared out now. There were just empty tents and a few spare horses in the place of where his entire army was supposed to be.

This was bad, this was very bad. This outcome was unquantifiably terrible. If his men weren't here, that meant they had gone to meet Ramsay’s forces in the field. He had taken too long getting back. During his time going and being overseas, he hadn't been able to send a letter back to Davos by Raven. 

His people had no idea what had happened to him. They would have had no way of knowing his whereabouts. They had either grown too impatient to wait for his return or they had assumed that some life ending folly had befallen him. 

Jon turned to face the dragon behind him. “Rhaegal,” he said sharply. “Change of plans. We need to fly to Winterfell this instant.” Rhaegal ignored him completely. The dragon seemed to be focused on the horses left behind in the valley. Clearly he saw them as a chance to satiate his extreme hungry.

Jon moved in front of Rhaegal, intending to get the dragon’s attention and block the horses from his line of sight. “There's no time for that,” he said firmly. “You'll have to eat later.” 

Rhaegal saw Jon attempting to block him from food as an offense. The dragon bared his teeth and growled in a challenge. Jon remained resolute. He wouldn't back down on this issue. “My men could be being slaughtered at this very moment! We need to go now if we hope to save them.”

Jon was trying to convey the importance of their mission, but he seemed to be failing. At this moment Rhaegal didn't appear to care whatsoever what happened to the men of the North. The dragon gave a sort of dismissive snort to Jon's claim of the upcoming destruction of his allies. Hunger and exhaustion had a habit of making life apathetic to other problems.

Realizing that he couldn't make Rhaegal feel sympathy for strangers, he tried going a different way with this confrontation. “What about my brother Rickon? He's barely more than a child and Ramsay is going to kill him.”

His pleas were falling on death ears. Rhaegal still seemed entirely disinterested with anything which wasn't eating or sleeping. “You may think that you and Rickon share no connections, but you're wrong,” Jon said boldly. “He's my uncle’s son just as you are my aunt’s son. You're both my cousins. That makes you related through me.”

Rhaegal was done with conversing it seemed. Since Jon refused to move, the dragon apparently decided to find food and rest elsewhere. At least, that was the impression Jon got as the dragon turned away from him and prepared to fly away.

No! If Rhaegal left him here, then all hope of changing things would be lost. All of Jon's men and friends would be killed by Ramsay. Everything he had done in this new timeline would have been for absolutely nothing! 

Even with these concerns, Jon made no attempt to convince Rhaegal to not abandoned him here. After all, once a dragon made up their mind, no one could hope to change it.

He watched in resigned horror as Rhaegal took off into the sky. The dragon was going back the way they had come. Rhaegal then flew above the grey clouds and went beyond his sight.

With his only chance to change fate gone, Jon remained motionless for a few moments. Where was he even supposed to go from here? He looked back into the valley and saw the horses which had caused his fight with Rhaegal. 

He could ride one of them to Winterfell, but would there even be a point? Would he only be arriving to bury the dead? Jon knew nothing could be gained from him going to Winterfell now, but he still felt he should go. After all, he certainly couldn't just stay here. Likewise, running away was too despicable of an action to consider. 

Forward. If he looked back he'd be lost. Forward was the only way he could go. At the very least, he could die with the rest of his men. Who knows, maybe he'd be sent back to day of his resurrection yet again? He wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse. Perhaps he would awaken in that room at Castle Black every time he died until he finally fixed things.

He made his way down the valley and toward the horses. It was time to confront Ramsay. It was time to attempt to prevent the inevitable.

* * *

_Wherever Aegon Targaryen went, dragons followed. There wasn't one battle Aegon had fought in which his dragon Balerion hadn't been apart of. The man and his dragon had been separate while also somehow acting as one being._

_Hundreds of generations later, Jon Snow was realizing just how different he and the original Aegon Targaryen were. Perhaps that difference would cost him everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update! I've been traveling recently, so there hasn't been a lot of time to write. 
> 
> In regards to the chapter itself, I thought this outcome was inevitable. Jon's desperation to get to Winterfell quickly was so extreme that he pushed himself and Rhaegal far too hard. 
> 
> It got to the point that Jon was seriously risking their health. Rhaegal still wants to help his cousin of course. He also wants time to eat and sleep though. The body needs rest, no matter if it's a body of a dragon or a human being.
> 
> Anyway, feel free to tell me how you feel in a comment. I'm back from traveling now, so the next chapter shouldn't take as long to arrive.


End file.
